untitled beach poem

Pz-avatarby Janeen Armstrong15 Aug 2013

The nibbling waves
steal secrets etched
into damp sand.
Barnacles wait
on their rocks, holding
their feathery tongues
until the salty reach
of the tide's embrace
washes them with a desire
to nourish and sweep
away all memory
of dry hunger
that made the bleached hours
seem like penance.

The river descends
from the misty slopes
and brings tumbling
boulders, tree trunks
and a dissolution
of salt. Even so, deer
come out of the shadowy
woods to lick
the white-dusted rocks
and wet their hooves
in the shallows.

Everything not anchored
down or buried gets carried
away to sea, now
or perhaps tomorrow.
I will not look over
my shoulder to see
what is fading
on the horizon.